Metamorphosis Page 3

  “Okay. Just tell me their names and numbers, and I’ll call them.” He fumbles around the room looking for a pen and piece of paper to write on. When he turns back to me, tears are streaming down my face. “No, no, no, don’t cry. I’ll call them. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t know any of their phone numbers,” I wail. “They’ve all just been programmed in my phone for so long that I never have to dial them.”

  He is stifling laughter. “Just give me their names. I’ll get Fisher to find their numbers.”

  “You’re laughing at me,” I am pouting.

  “No, sweetheart, I’m not. I realize that if I lost my phone, I don’t think I could even call my parents. Ahh, the age of technology. So let me have it. Give me their names, and I’ll call Fisher.”

  “Piper Pritchard, Charlotte Barton, Sutton Leigh, and Rachel Gordon.” I look up at him with hopeful eyes. I need my girls, desperately. “Dax?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “How bad do I look?”

  He hesitates, undoubtedly trying to find the least painful words he can. “Umm. Cam, that’s kind of an unfair question.”

  “You said when they found me my face was unrecognizable. Is it still?”

  “No, most of the swelling is gone, and the bruises have turned yellowish green. There are a lot of scratches on your face, but they’re healing. Your lip was busted open pretty badly, but they sewed it back together. Geez, Cam. You’re still fucking beautiful. Do you want a mirror?”

  I just nod. He starts looking around the room for one, but other than the one in the bathroom there doesn’t seem to be one present. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he turns out of the room. When he comes back, he says a nurse will bring one up from the maternity ward. As promised, a few minutes later, a huge mirror on wheels strolls through the door. “Kitten, what you look like isn’t important. The fact that you’re alive is.”

  He gives me fair warning, but I am not prepared for what I see. My head is enormous, my face sickly shades of green, blue, and yellow. My eye sockets are almost hollow looking, lip busted and swollen covered in stitches, more bruising around my neck and ears. Everywhere I look, there is something wrong, out of place, not the right color. Tears fill my eyes. Dax anticipates my reaction and moves in front of the mirror to block my view. He crouches down in front of me as I sit on the side of the bed. He takes both hands and gently kisses the side of my mouth. When I close my eyes, the tears escape.

  “Baby, you’re going to look good as new in no time. You’re still just as beautiful as you were the day you stood me up.” He winks at me eliciting a small grin. I have no idea why he’s here or why he’s been here. I have no idea why I want him to stay. He feels safe. I feel protected. Tilting his head, he rests his forehead on mine, searching my eyes, for what I don’t know. A smile graces his full lips, and he kisses me on the nose.

  “I’m sorry, Dax.”

  “For what?”

  “For standing you up that night for dinner, for your spending eight days in this crappy place, for putting you in a position that makes you feel like you need to protect me, for being such a bitch when you came to my office.” I can’t fathom why he has stayed with me after I dismissed him. He makes me want to tear down the walls I’ve spent years erecting, yet I know if I let him in, he will have the power to destroy me when he leaves.

  “All those things make you endearing, although you will be punished for the dinner incident. I’m going to go call Fisher. Do you want your friends to come see you?” I nod, getting a grin in return.

  He returns a few minutes later saying Fisher actually knows Rachel. Figures. She knows everyone in town and has dated most of the men our age. He has her number, so he is going to call her and get her to contact everyone else. Dax doesn’t seem to find this odd in the least, so I just went with it. His phone rings about five minutes later. Apparently, it hasn’t taken Fisher long to reach Rachel, and my girls are frantic. It makes me smile, not that they are upset, but that they love me enough to be worried.

  CHapter four

  Thirty minutes later, I hear my tribe clicking down the hall toward my room. Dax looks at me, and I laugh. I can see he is trying to decide whether or not to make a break for it. Rachel, she’s the loud one in our group, leads the pack. As soon as she walks in the door and catches sight of me, ignoring the huge Dax in our midst, her face goes flat. “Jesus Christ, Cameron Pierce! What the hell happened to you?!”

  “Fucking A, Rachel. How about some tact!” Piper, our mother hen, pops up. She is the oldest in the group, although only by a couple of years. I envy her. Everything about her screams perfection, but she’s completely immune to it.

  “Would you two shut up? Check out the man candy. Who the hell is this, Cam?” Charlotte, better known to us as Charlie, is as lesbian as the day is long, but she appreciates the male form. All four girls turn to Dax, who stands at his acknowledgement.

  “Dax Cooper,” he says introducing himself to my friends. The only one who hasn’t spoken is Sutton. She never takes her eyes off Dax. She’s the protective one in the group, and when I say protective, she will take down anyone, male or female, who threatens the happiness of any one of us. She is seriously loyal and the best friend anyone could ask for. I watch her taking in Dax – sizing him up, not just his appearance but his purpose, his intent. She will not let him into the fold easily.

  “Sutton,” I warn, breaking the intensity that has filled the room, “back down.” Dax looks over at me steering all attention in my direction.

  “Girls, this is Dax. Remember the delivery guy I told you about who’s friends with Julie?”

  Rachel, always the imminent flirt, “What the hell were you thinking, Cam? He’s sex on a stick. Why on Earth were you a mega bitch to this hot man?”

  Dax grins; he is in his element. He’s used to women fawning over him. He absorbs their attention although, surprisingly, he doesn’t return it. He is polite, but his focus remains on me.

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Piper rolls her eyes, and Rachel sticks her tongue out at her in return.

  Sutton is ignoring the bullshit going on around her, and she is leaning in on her target. “Why are you here?” her glare boring holes in Dax.

  He never falters. His confidence can’t be shaken. “I’ve been with her since the police found her. If I had known any of your names, I would have gotten in touch with you sooner.”

  I could see the storm brewing in Sutton’s eyes. She isn’t mad at Dax per se; she is scared. Her fear manifests itself in anger. “Sutton…” I warn her.

  “You and I are going to talk. Soon.” She is threatening Dax. He just gives her a nod of his head and folds his arms across his chest.

  Piper tries to rein everyone back in. “What happened, Cam? We’ve been worried sick. No one could reach you. You haven’t been home in days, although I’ve been by to feed your cats every day. When we called the office, some random girl answering your line told us you were on an unexpected trip. I’ve called this hospital multiple times to see if you were here and was told they couldn’t release patient names.”

  I don’t have the strength to say the words. I can’t tell my friends what happened. I can’t tell them some random man violated me in every way imaginable. Dax lowers his frame to a crouching position next to the bed, whispering in my ear, asking me if I want him to tell them the clinical version. I just barely nod my head. I can see the shock in my friends’ faces when Dax speaks for me.

  “Cam was raped and beaten eight days ago. She’s been in a medically induced coma until early this morning.”

  I can’t distinguish all of the questions being thrown at Dax and the looks being tossed at me. It is utter chaos, exactly what I can’t handle. I squeeze Dax’s hand letting him know I am overwhelmed. “Ladies, you’re going to have to…. ”

  “We left you that night.” Sutton’s whisper is somehow more powerful than Dax’s domineering voice. “You were waiting on a cab. We left you.” She lifts her eyes fro
m the floor to meet mine.

  “Oh no, Sutton, don’t do that. I told you guys to go. You didn’t have anything to do with it.” The room is dead silent. I didn’t know what else to say; I don’t blame my friends. Dax gave them the G-rated version of what took place that night, at least in terms of my injuries and what the police assumed happened based on the shape of my body. I know I will have to give a statement at some point, but no one has mentioned it, and I sure as hell am not interested in rehashing it. After about thirty minutes, my posse unwillingly leaves me with Dax so I can rest. I am surprised by how much relief I feel with their departure. They are everything to me, normally my only comforters, but for whatever reason, as a whole they are too much, exhausting. I just want to lie back and be quiet with Dax, who has proven he will just sit with me.

  As I lie back against the comfort of the fluffy pillows, he sits down in the chair next to me; I turn my head to look at him and smile weakly. He reaches out to cup my face, gently stroking my cheek with his thumb. Then lightly kissing my bruised lips, “Close your eyes, Kitten. I’ll be here when you wake up.” I think I am asleep before my eyes finish closing.

  The next couple of days are more of the same – my friends come to visit although usually separately, not as a clan; nurses and doctors come in and out; and Dax never leaves. Julie brings him clothes; he showers in my bathroom, but only leaves the room to go get food from the cafeteria. We have spent countless hours talking about nothing; he doesn’t press or even ask for information about that night. We just get to know each other, and Julie was right – he is an incredible guy. He plays his guitar and sings to me every night to lull me to sleep.

  The doctor told us last night that I will be discharged this morning after I give my statement to the police. I didn’t sleep worth a damn last night, the thought of reliving that night is more than I can handle. I have managed to avoid any details like the plague because I have been in a protected bubble in the hospital. I worry all night long. I toss and turn, thinking I am crying silently, until I feel the bed move. I have been facing away from Dax to make sure I don’t wake him, but he seems to have a sixth sense with my needs. My body stiffens with the dip of the mattress. I feel the heat from his body, and then his arm slides gently under my head, his other across the top of me, pulling me to him. There is nothing sexual about it; it is just comfort that I settle into like a warm bath. He tucks my head into the nook of his shoulder and whispers, “I know you’re scared, Kitten, but I’ve got you. We’ll get through tomorrow morning, and then each day after that. You’re not alone.”

  His words open the floodgates, and I sob, body-wracking shudders. I can’t catch my breath, and my anxiety level is at an all time high. I relive that night mentally, and every detail seems crystal clear, like I am there again. I began to kick and scream, but Dax never wavers. He just keeps whispering to me, trying to soothe my aching soul. I finally turn into him and just let it all out while he strokes my back in reassuring motions. I fall into a deep sleep locked in his arms, which is how the nurse finds us when she comes in with the officers there to take my statement.

  “Cameron, the officers are here to talk to you. Do you want us to step out for a minute so you can get dressed?” The nurse is sweet, and I just nod as Dax starts to come out of his slumber. It is the first time I have noticed what almost two weeks locked in a hospital has done to him physically. The weariness shows on his face, darkness circling his eyes. His looming presence has softened. He wipes the sleep from his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair but doesn’t make a move to let me go.

  He looks down at me smiling, “Good morning, baby. Do you want me to stay with you while you do this?”

  I desperately want him to stay with me, never let go of me. His arms feel like a security blanket, but I also don’t want him to know the details of what a stranger did to me. I don’t want him to see the weakness that has overcome me. I hadn’t given in to it until last night. I want him to think I am stronger than that, just as much as I want him to stay with me. My pride takes over. “I’ll be okay, Dax. When we walk out of here today, I have to be able to go back to my life where I’m on my own. This is the first step toward doing that.”

  He scrunches his face up like I had just slapped him. “What the fuck are you talking about? What life are you going back to on your own?”

  “Dax, I can’t thank you enough for being here with me through all of this, but you have a job, I have a job, we both have friends and separate lives. I don’t expect you to give yours up to nurse me back to reality.” I get up and find the bag of clothes Sutton brought me the day before and go to the bathroom. “I’m going to shower. Will you let them in after you change clothes?”

  “This conversation is not over, Cameron. You and I are going to talk when they leave.” I shrug him off knowing that nothing with Dax Cooper could ever be simple and proceed to take the quickest shower I ever have.

  Getting out of the shower, I realize I have nothing to dry my hair with, no styling products, no makeup, nothing but clothes. I twirl my damp, copper-colored hair into a knot on top of my head and put on the jeans and t-shirt Sutton chose. Leave it to her – she always ignores pomp and circumstance. Utilitarian should be her middle name, always going for comfort over fashion. I love that about her, but I feel naked without my armor – putting myself together in my morning routine makes me feel protected. Today, I am bare, but I guess I have been for weeks. Dax hasn’t retreated and has seen me exposed to the world. I am momentarily stunned by the thought I care what Dax will think seeing me dressed so casually. Then I hear the voices in the room on the other side of the door and know I have to emerge. Taking a calming breath I open the door to the officers and Dax.

  “Baby, come here. I want you to meet Fisher and his partner, Jackson.” He smiles a smile that stops me in my tracks. Fisher and Jackson both turn to see what he is looking at. His friends look at me with endearing looks, like they were looking at a long-lost friend of Dax’s they have always wanted to meet. My heart skips a beat before he holds his hand out to me walking in my direction. He has somehow managed to pull this together for me, knowing that his friends would put me at ease because he trusts them. My face blushes with his thoughtfulness. When he laces his arm around my waist, he turns to the other men, introducing each. I hadn’t heard Jackson’s name, but I knew he and Fisher were close and had been since Jeremy’s death. Fisher was the cop on the scene of that accident as well. They had formed an instant bond.

  Fisher is beautiful in a rugged, manly, sort of way. He is just as tall as Dax, which I estimate to be around six foot four, with dark, almost black hair. His face is full with the sweetest brown eyes. It is obvious he works out as much as Dax does – he is broad everywhere. Jackson on the other hand is harsh – he has striking, strong features that are severe. He is a couple inches shorter than Dax and Fisher but still really, really good looking. When he opens his mouth to say hello, I soften to him. His voice is like butter, and I don’t mean margarine. I mean the lush, calorie-ridden, fattening, robust butter. It fills the room and is all man but in a melt your heart kind of way. I am not going to be able to spend a lot of time around this group of men; they spell disaster for me. They’re beautiful, and it would be easy to fall prey to the shield of protection they offer. I refuse to allow myself to become dependent upon anyone again.

  I don’t extend my hand to either, but neither seems offended. Maybe they know I don’t want people touching me. I cringe every time a nurse or doctor reaches for me. I can only stand it if Dax is holding my hand, reassuring me that no one will penetrate his fortress of protection. Even with his arm clutching my waist, I can’t offer the simple gesture of a handshake, so I raise my hand in a weak wave. Dax kisses me on the side of the head. “I’ll wait outside.” I try to give him a smile, but it falls short. He hesitates before retreating to the hall.

  Fisher motions for me to sit down. In order to do so, I have to move past him and Jackson. My heart starts racing again as I move
further back into the shadows, shaking my head no in response. He looks confused but doesn’t argue; instead, he starts talking while Jackson is taking notes. “Cameron, do you remember anything about what happened that night?” I nod but don’t respond verbally. “I know this is going to be difficult, but we can’t take a statement without words. We will start with yes or no questions, okay?”

  “Yes,” I croak. My hands are shaking, pulse racing faster and faster with each moment I am left alone with these two men.

  “Do you remember anything about that night?” he asks again.

  “Yes.”

  “Were you at CueBalls before the incident?”

  “Yes.”

  “The bartender said you and your friends closed the place down and you called a cab when you left around two in the morning. He said that there were four other women with you. I’m assuming that was Piper, Sutton, Charlie, and Rachel. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.” So far this isn’t that hard. These are basic questions, but I know we will reach a point where I have to utter more than one syllable. It comes faster than I thought it would.

  “What happened when you left the building?”

  “I went to the bathroom after they left since I had to wait on the cab that was picking me up on Main. I went out the side door. I guess because that was the door my friends had left through. As soon as the door shut, I tried to go back in, but the door had locked behind me. It was really dark in the lot – there was no light. I walked along the wall of the building and could hear heavy footsteps in the gravel that weren’t mine….” My voice trails off as I go back in my mind to recall the memory. “I tried to walk faster, but my ankle turned and he was on me. I tried to scream, but he had covered my mouth when he grabbed me. I fought with him; I swear I did.” The sobs seem to belong to someone else. I can hear them, but it is as if I am listening to someone else cry. “I kicked, kneed him, elbowed him, everything I could think of, but the harder I fought, the more he punished me.”